


Subject 004

by aWeird1



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Human Experimentation, Laboratories, M/M, Slow Burn, experiment!billy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aWeird1/pseuds/aWeird1
Summary: Project MKUltra was broad with research undertaken at 80 institutions, including colleges and universities, hospitals, prisons, and pharmaceutical companies. Hawkins Lab was not the only one to experiment on abducted children, Eleven is not the only gifted one. Subject 004, William Hargrove from San Diego Institution of Neuroscience, is quite like her.A Harringrove slow burn love story, set in an AU where Billy is a science experiment just like Eleven. You're very welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

Max's busted lip trembled, blood trickling down her pale chin. She did not expect Neil to do anything like this, she didn't even see it coming until his fist grazed her cheek. How did this happen? One second she is standing in the kitchen with broken pieces of an expensive, Chinese vase in her tiny little hands, and then the furious stepfather is right before her with anger flaring in his eyes like a bonfire, striking her face without a second thought.

He was long gone now, went out, she was left alone on the floor with those pieces scattered around. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't even call Chief Hopper  _If you tell anybody about this, even your whore of a mother, you're dead Maxine!_  His voice echoed in her head, she was terrified. 

"Shitbird?" _Perfect, just who I wanted to see, Billy._  His blue Camaro just stopped playing Queen's We will Rock you, she could hear the sound of his heavy boots entering. She hid her face and turned away from her stepbrother as he walked closer to her, kneeling on his knees.

"Fucking shit, who did this to your face?! Neil is going to kill me for not looking after you!" She couldn't help but grimace as a tear rolled down her freckly nose once Billy's hand wrapped tight around her wrist. It was Neil's handy-work and the youngest Hargrove soon realized that.

It was a familiar shape of four, red, bloodied bruises, perfectly matching the size of his father's knuckles. A shape he saw quite often on his own flesh, he often stared at the dirty mirror hanging upon his wall knowing it's a temporary reminder of who he truly is. Billy could recognize his old man's right fist anywhere. His eyes softened, what a trip down memory lane, first him, now Max. It was only a matter of time, he knew it, dreaded it. Though seeing it happen right in front of him felt so strange. It's a deja vu he wished he could shake off, wishing he could simply pinch himself awake and Max would be alright, being the usual spaz she is about him not taking her to the arcade before dinner.

The boy's grip softened around her wrist, knowing she would be in a fragile state for a few more hours. However, who knows? That night at the Byers she spent doing God knows what, perhaps Neil's right hook doesn't intimidate her as much. If she helped preppy boy Harrington hunt down whatever that horrendous thing in the fridge was, Max might as well be fearless. She seemed almost fine-ish now, almost...   

"He did this to you didn't he? Damn son of a bitch." Billy mumbled, carefully examining her swelling injury, his fingers barely hovering over her cheek. Max was a little bit shaken up, _how the hell did he_ _know?_ She wondered, eyeing him up and down suspiciously even though her face was stone cold still. Billy knew she would connect the dots soon, he stayed silent. After all, you would have to be blind and deaf not to see that his relationship with Neil is a little bit off for a son and father.  

"How did you know?" She asked, he didn't answer, didn't want to. If he was honest with himself, he wished she'd just let it go. She didn't, he did not expect her to.

"He punched you too" She whispered with her brows furrowed, _how didn't I see this before?_   Billy only nodded. He had this knowing look in his steel blue eyes, like he has seen some really fucked up shit before. And he has, she knows he has, quite frankly that truly scared her. Knowing she lives under the same roof with someone who made Billy...well, Billy.    

"Neil has a mean swing. Welcome to the club, sis." He gave her an understanding look, something mimicking a melancholy smile. The red-haired girl suddenly couldn't see her stepbrother the same way anymore. Those awful purple bruises and deep, dark red cuts Billy sported every now and then weren't from any street fight, she knew that now.   

"When did it start?" Max wondered, her voice was barely audible, she feared Billy didn't even hear her. He did, and with a tired exhale came the answer  

 

"I...I was eight." Silence filled the kitchen, that annoying clock Susan bought right after Halloween was the only thing making any sound.

 

"Why?" She asked again, after a while. Billy didn't want to disclose that, at least not entirely. 

"Cause I'm a damn faggot." It showed too, like there was more to the story. Billy knew that Max, the little shit she is would pry. 

"Spit it out. It can't be just that, I saw you limping to your bed last week. You could barely stand on your own." He didn't even flinch, his coral lips were sealed tight, he was not ready for more. Pretty sure he never will be. If there is one thing he'd carry with him to his grave, then it is this.

"Yeah well, there is nothing more to it Maxine. Dad hates fags."

"Seems too simple, he isn't even religious....you know I'm not going to judge, right?" _Fucking kids_ he forgot how nosy they could be.

"Forget about it, ey? There are things I don't want to tell you and that is my fucking right."

"Okay, okay, gee. So defensive." Billy rolled his eyes at her, before carefully taking her smaller hand in his own once again...

"Promise me one thing, Max. Be careful around him. Alright? Because this, this is just the beginning. It might and most likely will get worse. Do you hear me, shitbird?" She couldn't help the frightened look on her face. Would Neil shove her into walls and break her ribs too? Would she one day stumble back to her bed like Billy did the other night? 

"Shit, you're bleeding. We better take care of that." She watched Billy stand up and grab the first aid kit from their herb cabin. For a moment Max imagined what he just said, she imagined it all just getting too bad to handle, getting out of control. A picture of her trembling fingers dialing 911 as she stands by her stepbrother's corpse, burned into her mind. Is Neil really capable of that?  

"How much worse can it get? For me, I mean." She asked, hissing when an alcohol-dipped cotton ball made contact with her skin.

"Much worse, he chased me around with a kitchen knife two months after my ma died. The cut wasn't deep though, he just left a small scar." Maxine nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. 

 

"Billy?" She asked after a some time, when all was done. They were sitting comfortably on their disgusting, orange couch, watching TV like nothing had happened. And damn it felt wrong, so so very wrong. But they didn't really have a choice, all they can do is ignore it, pretend everything's fine, everything **is** fine. Right? If Billy could do it for so long, so could Max. Right? After all, now they had each other. 

"Yeah?" She hesitated a bit after getting his response...

"Thank you."

"No problem, shitbird."

 

* * *

 

 

 

Months....was it four or five, definitely a few have passed since the incident at the Byers. Looking at his own reflection in the rear-view mirror of his Camaro, Billy barely recognized himself. His skin was no longer tan, replaced by a pale complexion that would put Snow White to shame. His hair was still intact, blonde, curly and bouncy as ever, but he would fish out a few grey ones here and there, overall he still looked like himself. Buff, handsome, albeit tired, but still looking better than your average Hawkins jock.

It was his eyes that the teen did not remember looking this way, that alluring blue color faded, leaving only grey. His irrational, wild anger was almost gone, leaving his aching body in a numb, emotionally confused state, nothing in life mattered anymore. It was almost like he disappeared, one tiny little needle, just one fucking syringe and the sound of it pushing liquid into his body, the feeling of it seeping in and suddenly, he is gone. It all just came back to him at once. He wasn't ready for it. 

_"Mom! Moooooom! No no no no no, Sir, please! I want to see my mother!" a young boy's voice echoed through the half-empty halls. Tall people in white coats, his tiny little wrists pinned to the bed by thick, brown leather belts. It was so bright, always so bright everywhere. The muffled sound of doctors whispering right in front of him like he wasn't even there, alarmed him. And then there it was, it felt like nothing more than a mosquito bite, until the pain crept up on him, like a predator. All he felt was pain, his limbs were shaking, he could taste blood on his tongue. But his head, his head hurt the most, can a human brain explode just like that? Subject 004 didn't know._

"Fuck you, Max." Billy whispered, rubbing at his tired eyelids, as if that would somehow make them less heavy. There was no hatred behind it, Max was protecting her friends. He knew that now.

Billy just came back from school, didn't even bother to go inside the house. So he sat alone in his cold, loud car, Queen still playing in the background. Nobody even noticed him at school anymore, he didn't try to be noticed. Suddenly his image, his life, everything he represented didn't matter to him anymore. Only girls still longed for him, looking at his body with hungry eyes.

Who knew that memories could fuck you up so much, William Hargrove was entirely empty. No dreams, no passion, no nothing, felt like he was running on gasoline. That alien looking creature, in the fridge, it was a nasty little thing, unlike anything he has ever seen before. And yet even that was not nearly as frightening as what was hiding in the darkest corners of his brain for so long. _Nah, fuck that thing_ Billy thought. Back at the Byers house, it was the way he no longer felt his legs, it was the way he saw those men....bad men, take him away from his mother, the way they forced burning chemicals down his ears that scared him the most. 

"It isn't real, it's in the past!" Billy kept repeating to himself ever since November, but if it isn't real.... _then why am I still there?_ One minute he finds himself falling asleep in class, the next he wakes up strapped to that white bed again.

 

The house seemed oddly quiet today, Neil's car was gone. All lights were off and that Shitbird was supposed to be at home by now. He took a deep breath and finally climbed out of the black leather seat of his vehicle, turning the music off, he finally headed home. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

004\. That was this wicked number, sealed under the tender flesh of his nape, years ago. It was nothing but a slightly faded tattoo now, hidden under that curly, golden mullet Billy has been wearing for years. Purple bags under his eyes, his hands were shaking, he could barely concentrate on brushing his teeth right now, the red toothbrush was barely hanging off of his lips.

He looked like a wreck in their round, little bathroom mirror. His cold, shivering fingers were resting on it, tracing the back of his neck. Billy has lost count of how many times he tried to scratch, cut or burn those three digits away. Alas, as visible as ever, they still were there, no matter how many cigarette burns decorated them like a flower crown. Ugly. What an ugly thing it is, so deep within his skin.

He doesn't exactly remember the day they inked him, it has always just been there like this cursed reminder that he wasn't worth jack shit. He was nothing more but a machine to them, an asset, a weapon. His horrid screams went past their ignorant ears, his pain was a sign of success and his tears were considered a weakness, a flaw, an unnecessary function. The boy lowered his toothbrush and walked out of the room.

Max was sitting in her little twin bed, the lights were slightly dimmed, it was dark outside. A jet black portable radio was resting in her hand, nobody answered when she called their names. Her merry band of misfits were most likely already tucked into their beds, _what is that like? Not being terrified to close your eyes at night, to not visit hell each time everything turns black?_ He wondered, finally letting his palm fall from the back of his neck.

Billy observed the way his step-sister's brittle nails dug into her grey mattress, she wasn't sure if she should tell her friends about what happened, he's not surprised. When he found her there, sitting on the kitchen floor, it was like looking at a mental picture, an old photo of himself. Alone and scared. It angered him to see her that way. She might be an annoying little spaz, but nobody deserved to be treated that way. _I never want to see his hands on her again ..._

Although they didn't talk about it after he cleaned her wound, it almost feels like a barrier was broken, that wall of hatred and secrets separating them wasn't there anymore. They are family now, she needs him and he will be there for her, at least for now. Billy knocked carefully on a light wooden door, not to startle her.

"Billy?" He could practically see the defensive _what do you want?_ on her face. 

"Listen here you little shit, avoid him as much as possible and everything should be alright. Just, please, at least for my sake, don't run off again. Got it?" He asked gently, shifting his weight onto his good leg. _Old man did a real number on the other one last night._ She looked up at him thoughtfully, giving him a short nod. Her eyes are so big, innocent and young. How could Neil hurt a thing like that? She is tiny, he never noticed how small she is before now. 

"Did he? I mean, that night at Will Byers house, you know, before you came..." The red-haired girl asked when it finally clicked in her mind.

"Yeah, a bit. Susan was there, he couldn't do it in front of her." She scoffed at that, Neil's angry voice echoing in her mind  _If you tell anybody about this, even your whore of a mother, you're dead Maxine!_  

"He said he'd kill me if I tell mom." Max whispered, feeling the chills go down her spine. She can still remember how her stepdad's breath reeked of alcohol, how he coated her in spit with every word his filthy mouth spoke. His face was moving closer and closer with each threat, cornering her like an old, grey wolf, hunting its prey for entertainment, rather than out of a need for feeding.

"He can't kill you, I'd be dead years ago." Billy let out a dark chuckle, he almost did once. Neil pushed him down those steep stairs of their dark cellar when he was twelve, locked him in like bad men did at the lab. He got a concussion after hitting seven steps with his head. When his eyes flew open at the hospital, he wished he didn't survive.

"Did you ever try to tell someone about what he does to you?" _Yeah, like anybody would care_ he thought to himself. Billy had friends back in California who did it, told the police about their own dysfunctional families. Nothing quite good came out of it though, and after some time they simply disappeared off the streets. 

"Nah, there is no point. I wish I did earlier, when I was younger. You know, I really believed him too, that he would kill me if I told anybody. It's too late now." He knew he had six more months to live under Neil's roof, after that he would flee, leave Hawkins forever. Billy would go back to Cali, back where the sun shines every other day, back where the smell of seawater follows you everywhere, back to where he was happy.

"You'll turn eighteen..." She mumbled thoughtfully. 

"Mhhm. Can't wait to leave this damn town."  with fear in her eyes, Max looked at him as if he was her last hope.

"You'll leave me here? Alone with him?" She asked, for a moment Billy's eyes widened and he could practically feel the guilt creeping up on him. Deciding to sit down by her side on that creaking piece of junk, he took her hands in his.

"Listen, I was a stupid kid, I should have called the cops on him a long time ago. But for you, it is not late. If he ever does anything to you, you will call me and I'll come back. We will go to the police together and I will become your legal guardian. But until I'm eighteen, we have to bear with Neil, endure. Keep your mouth shut, you hear me? Otherwise, you will be assigned a foster family in some hellhole far away, where you will never see me, nor Susan, nor your friends for that matter, ever again." Billy's thumbs were gently circling the redhead's knuckles, he knew her friends meant the world to her. 

Maxine smiled at her stepbrother, confusion and fondness written all over her face, not even half a year ago he was the biggest asshole she has ever met. _Whatever the hell happened to him?_ She wondered, letting it slip out of her mind for now. It was weird, finally having a big brother, weird, but pleasant.

"Thanks, Billy." She fondly raked her delicate little fingers through that curly, blonde mess of hair. She's clueless, how could she even notice the way Billy stilled when they eventually reached his nape? The cigarette burns felt like a narly, not fully healed, infected scratch beneath her fingertips. He froze, for a second there he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. With his tongue stuck in his throat, Billy's life flashed before his color drained eyes. _You sick little freak! If you ever try those voodoo tricks of yours in public again, I'll fucking scalp you!_ Neil's voice echoed in his ears, he couldn't let Max find out about his past, he was not ready for that.

Only him, his old man and his mom knew of this, before she took her last breath. Lilly Hargrove was a beautiful, kind, warm and graceful woman. Intelligent and strong, she didn't let anybody bring her down and would fight back when Neil's anger flared up. As painful as it is, he remembers the day bad men abducted him, he was this unruly three-year-old toddler, a doctor visited their local kindergarten and soon he found himself passing out. The day they returned him back home on a rainy Sunday night, stuck in his mind vividly. San Diego's finest scientists thought him useless, ineffective, a failed experiment. He was seven years old, those bland, dirty white walls were all he knew, the way nothing was surrounded by strong medical lights and men in coats mumbling, fascinated him. 

He still remembers how his mother burst into tears with her eyes wide open, grasping him in a tight embrace when scientists dressed as policemen knocked at her door.

"What is that?" Her voice sounded a bit alarmed, she attempted to lift up Billy's hair. 

"I, it's nothing Max. Go to bed."

Standing up, abruptly from where he sat on those newly washed, cheap thrift store sheets, he bolted out of her room. She had already felt the hideous bumps of his scars around it. Granted, she mistook it for a relatively new wound, chasing after him with concern lacing her strong features. Meanwhile, in the comfort of a locked door and a dark bedroom, Billy sat quietly on the floor, hoping he would wake up tomorrow and forget everything.

"Billy? Billy! Wait! Did Neil hurt you? Come on Billy, open up the door! Let me see it! It's just a wound! It could get infected!" She banged at the thin layer of wood that separated them with all her might, but he didn't move. 

 

"Goodnight, Max." was all he said in return...

* * *

 

His dirty blonde locks were incredibly soft, _how are they so soft?_ She wondered, raking her hand through those fluffy curls. He really wasn't that off-putting anymore, amusingly purred like a cat when he was happy, Max wasn't sure if she has seen him like that at all before. That was until she felt this cold, rough skin under her touch, like a nasty scratch. Did Neil hurt him again? He most likely did...and it must have been bad. Because one second _as unlikely as it sounds_ they were bonding on her tiny bed and the next, at great speed Billy fled down the corridor and out of her sight.

 


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Billy dreamt of the lab. Shuddering as if he was buried six feet under a massive lair of ice, whimpering alone in his bed, this phantom pain in his bubbling veins couldn't let him rest. He saw them, bad men, their white coats flowing behind them like capes as they dragged his tiny body on a stretcher. Capes are for heroes though, they were rather these inventive angels of death. 

 _"Subject 004's final surgical procedure stars in two hours, and fifteen minutes. Serum 23X needs a direct injection into the temporal lobe. If during testing, subject 004 activates his ability of compulsion, he will become our most valuable asset yet. Prepare him." Those were the last words he heard before he went under_...

Billy was reliving it all again, in that nightmare, he couldn't wake up. He screamed, in the back of his own mind _"Wake up! Wake up, William!"_ , nothing came out of it until a rusty, pastel blue alarm clock brought him to reality. His eyes were hazy, at first, he couldn't comprehend his whereabouts. Only a few minutes later, he slowly realizes that he is safe, in his own room. At least as safe as it can be, with Neil's heavy footsteps in the background. He soon got up, just to find out he was completely drenched to the skin. Cold sweat was pouring down his forehead, he looked like he just ran a marathon.

Billy truly wishes he could forget it, forget it all....just like he once did. Back then, he was only 12. In that white, sterile hospital, after his own father pushed him down those steep stairs, locking him up in their basement with a concussion, everything reminded him of the lab. It was all too much, very like how it feels right now. Back then, he stood in front of a cracked bathroom mirror, thick, deep crimson blood dripping down his flushed nose until he could not remember it anymore  _"It never happened! It was just a bad dream!"_

What is it that they say about symptoms of PTSD? It's all shits and giggles until something triggers you and you turn into a fucking vegetable on the inside? Billy was more than positive that he wanted to kill Max after what she did to him, after what she unlocked in the depths of his subconsciousness. With time, the anger faded as more memories of pain and fear flooded back. He wished those missing pieces of his disturbing recollection went missing again. Alas, William doesn't remember how to do it any longer.

It has been almost a decade since he last used his gifts, _it's rather a curse._

Not even bothering to shower, he simply shed those wet clothes, pulling on a warmer lair over his pale, trembling limbs. Winter was not quite over yet, he could blame his shakiness on the freezing weather for now. Max was throwing him concerned glances the whole morning, as they were eating in silence, both uncomfortable with Neil's presence, she barely got in two spoons of her awful looking cereal.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine." He mumbled to her, later in the car. 

"Not worried at all, I was admiring that bird's nest that you call hair." She mumbled jokingly in return. A signature smirk of amusement crept onto Billy's exhausted face, even if it lasted only for a second, Maxine was pleased with herself.

"My hair looks fabulous, thank you very much." The redhead scoffed at him, although it was true, his hairstyle wasn't exactly ugly, she still couldn't help but mock him for the obvious. 

"right"

 

As they were passing random, scattered trees that couldn't quite form a forest, and the small suburban houses, a deadly, almost suffocating silence washed over them. This town was dead, full of dull colors, browns, lifeless blues, army greens. It is so different to the wild color palette of California, where everything looked alive. Max couldn't help but peer at her brother's neck once more, for the more she thought about last night, that rough texture under her fingertips, the more she doubted it a wound.

It reminded her of leathery, burnt skin. Quite the way meat felt in her hands when Susan would overcook their dinner. Did Neil burn him with a lighter torch? Or was it a hot frying pan? 

"Billy, seriously, what was that thing? Is it a wound?" She still couldn't let it go..

"It's a really bad allergy rash. Nothing more to it." Billy explained with his eyes glued to the road.

He fully knew she didn't believe him.

* * *

 

To Steve Harrington, life was going downhill at an accelerated rate. Ever since the Upside-down happened and every single nightmare that came with it, he was scared of his own shadow. He rarely slept, and walked around high school campus with blue bags underneath his pretty brown eyes, always alone, now barely a human being, more like a shell with no soul. Steve rarely ate a full meal, surviving off of Trail Mix, candy bars and coffee. And now more often than not, he went to bed with the lights on. 

He truly tried to put on a brave face, for the kids, for Dustin who practically worships him. For teachers, so they wouldn't ask him if he is alright, for his parents so they would leave him alone like they always do. For Nancy, even though she is half the reason for his misery. She left him with her last words being "It's bullshit!", left him for Jonathan, and he understands why. He has never been the perfect boyfriend. Never will be, not after all of this, for who would want a broken toy?

Jonathan and Nancy, their romance is something else, he can not unsee that. They have each other's back no matter what. They always give each other a shoulder to cry on, support and accept each other. Steve wondered if he would smile like Jonathan does if he still had her. If he would sleep at night and sport a healthy face every day instead of looking like a zombie. Being alone truly sucked, being alone scared him even more than the upside down did, for every single time a Demogorgon chewed him open in his vivid dreams, he was alone.  

Steve's grades were slipping too. He hasn't been that good at most of the school stuff, anyway. Now though, it looks like he was actually going to fail Gym. And it did not bother him that much, he knew his father had plans for him. No matter how immensely he doesn't want to work for their family company, he truly has no choice, at least not anymore. 

"You alright man?" Jonathan's concerned voice brought him back from of his trance. Nancy was sitting right to his left, tight in Byers' arms, throwing him the same look Jonathan did.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just tired." He didn't look just tired, he looked dead.

"Good, because you looked out of it for a second there." The fact that they believed him, just proves how lonely he truly is. He could only roll his eyes as he left the barely crowded cafeteria, ignoring Nancy's calling voice behind him.

 

Steve headed straight for gym class. Considering how early he arrived, he expected it to be empty....it wasn't. He barely recognized him, Billy Hargrove. _Where has he been?_ Steve's thoughts wandered back to that night when he got his face beaten to the pulp. Leaving behind a numbing pain that helped him stay back in reality until it healed. Now there was nothing grounding him, nothing reminding him that he still can feel, that he is still here, still is alive. In a way, he was almost thankful for getting his mug punched into the ground, a l m o s t _._

Billy didn't look so good either, well, at least he looked as bad as his annoyingly handsome face would allow him. With those blossoming purple bags under his eyes and a painfully swollen kneecap, he is still that guy who can walk into a room and there would be not one single dry panty left.

However, it has been a while since his name was whispered about in the halls of Hawkins High, or cheered on at parties like he was their king. It has been a long time since he heard anything about Max's brother at all, like he somehow fell through the cracks of the earth, simply slid under everybody's radar, like he never was there altogether. Hargrove's skin was even paler than his own, that California tan was long gone, and replaced with a shade so light it looked like chalk.  

"Hargrove." Steve greeted him, trying not to interact with Mr. California too much, it never ends well. At least in the past, it didn't. Now, Billy doesn't seem like himself anymore.

"Hey pretty boy, why so pale?" _His eyes are different_ , was the first thing Harrington noted when the blonde raised his head. There was no anger in them, that mocking tone in his voice is gone and his build was looking rather introverted as the younger male slouched his shoulders.

"I don't know Billy, you don't look so tan either." Steve answered, his grip tightening around his navy blue, Adidas gym bag. He was debating on if he should somehow escape immediately, or keep acting like this conversation with Billy is not the most akward thing in the world. That is literally the same guy who almost killed him only a few months ago, yet it almost seemed like Hargrove was even more miserable than himself, looking beaten down and so very small.

"Fucking Indiana weather" Billy scoffed, but it couldn't just be their God-awful winter. His alabaster skin was waxy, and his face looked dead. No longer were his baby blues vibrant, they seemed dull and empty.

"Well, welcome to Hawkins." was all Steve could muster.

  

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck Hawkins." Billy sneered, shaking his head. Steve nodded at Hargrove's remark, lately, he has come to hate this town as well. Perhaps, even as much as the Californian in front of him does. He wished he could escape, but where? Where to? _Lucky Billy_ , he thought, free to go anywhere, do anything.

"Uhuh." Was all he said, slowly shuffling over to the bleachers, plopping down by Billy's right side. He was curious. Hargrove looked even worse up close, dark, jutting crimson veins in the corner of his tired, glossy eyes, he smelled feverish and looked sick, actually sick. The younger boy's puffy, injured knee reeked of cheap ointment for muscle repair, looking doubled in size. Deep purpure, mustard yellow, lilac, and fiery red bruises were generously peppered across that pale flesh, like someone took a shovel to it.

"What happened to your knee?" Steve blurted before thinking, it was annoying how your curiosity can get the best of you. Without missing a beat, the blonde answered. With his leg throbbing, memories of Neil's vividly angry face and a rusty crowbar in his cold grip flooded his mind.

"Fell down a flight of stairs." It sounded suspiciously monotone, spoken as if it was a practiced answer. Harrington knew Billy was lying.

"Bullshit" Steve scoffed, looking at his teammate's excruciatingly swollen leg with a pained look on his face. With that sharp, bloody imprint right by the articular cartilage, it looked straight up nasty. A flare of rage flickered across Hargrove's steel blue eyes, and Harrington shrunk. He didn't mean to pry, though bullshitting a bullshitter is quite a challenge. He himself would say he is fine, over and over again, with this exact same, flat tone. As if everything is just fucking peachy, said with such proficient confidence, despite evidence working against your favor. 

"Whatever..." Was Billy's answer, it came out barely a whisper, like he didn't care anymore. And frankly, it surprised Steve, how that signature rage faded so quickly. The blonde's head was hung low, sorrow and agony painted all over his sharp features. It almost seems like there is more to this mess of a teenager than Steve originally had thought. 

 

"I'm sorry" Hargrove mumbled, later....much later, you could practically hear the other boys, stomping towards the empty basketball court through those narrow hallways. Steve's eyes widened, almost cartoon-like, Billy found it surprisingly adorable.

"Uh, what was that?" _what?!_ He asked, dumbfounded by the amount of regret in those muted baby blues. There was a hint of a slight smile on the blonde's lips as he continued. 

"That night at the Byers, I'm sorry for almost killing you." _holy shit_

 

* * *

 

 

Max never thought that the day would come, when instead of talking with her friends, just like she normally would do on a boring Monday morning, she'd be sitting alone in the darkest broom closet, deliberately avoiding them.

Copper strands of unwashed hair were covering her freckle-dotted face, cheeks stained with tears, hatred boiling her blood. She felt unstable, helpless, yet angry as hell. Was this even remotely close to what Billy felt like that night? Suddenly it became clear as day, who actually was the shitty sibling. Ignorance seems to be running in their blood, there is no way her mother did not know of what Neil does to his own son.

Last night, after what happened, Maxine wanted to call the party, at least she hoped one of them would be online. Lucas, or perhaps Jane, they have become close recently. Though, when not a single soul answered, she felt relief. What was she even supposed to say? _Hi nerds, my dad punched me in the face and has been beating my big brother for years, but shhh don't tell anybody, it's a secret!_ Who does that? How does one talk about it like it was no big deal?

She doesn't want it to be a big deal, at least not until Billy is of legal age. If only everything could go back to normal.

 

"Mad Max?" She knew that voice, Jane's voice. So soft and concerned, behind the wooden door separating them. Of course, of course, El found her. The Chief's daughter's powers are amazing, but at times like these, she wishes her best friend didn't have them at all. Especially when her best friend is Jane Hopper, she's got to be the most protective person Max has ever met. Nothing would stop her from strangling Neil _Darth Vader style_ , once she'd find out about what that old prick did to her. 

Rising up from that dirty, dark grey floor as she grabbed one of the creaking shelves for support, she whipped out her mother's pressed powder foundation, touching up her banged up cheekbone. Jane mustn't know anything about this, her new father is the Sheriff, for Christ's sake.

Taking a deep breath, the red-head swung that door open, Jane had a single tear rolling down her own face...

"Please don't cry" Was all the brunette said before rushing towards her, locking both of them up in that tiny, dark closet and pulling her into almost a bone-crushing embrace. Max wasn't prepared for that at all.

"How did you know?" She asked, sobbing into El's shoulder, she couldn't hold it in any longer. It's like she could still feel Neil's fist upon her skin.

"I saw you crying in here, friends help each other."  

 

 


End file.
